


And Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow

by marius_pont_de_bercy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, being a dick to fictional characters, bucky barnes deserves better 2kforever, kind of les mis inspired, stop me, very les mis inspired, who am I kidding, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marius_pont_de_bercy/pseuds/marius_pont_de_bercy
Summary: Bucky Barnes remembers.And Steve Rogers loses him all over again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for my friend Greyson, which probably makes me the worst friend ever! But this is only the first part of two, so there'll be a ridiculously fluffy ficlet to make up for it soon!

The worst part had to be the look in Bucky’s eyes. 

Steve hadn’t been this close to him for what felt like forever, and looking at him now, he could almost believe it wasn’t Bucky anymore. The real Bucky didn’t look at him like that, cold and calculating, as a target instead of a friend. The real Bucky didn’t stare him down, lip curled, like he’d be ready to kill Steve without hesitation if he were given the chance. 

There was silence. 

Bucky was surrounded by FBI agents, red dots like angry fireflies lit up on his chest, at least a dozen weapons trained on him and only one gun aimed at Steve, a handgun leveled at his head. 

Bucky’s gun. 

Steve dropped his shield, and it clattered against the pavement. Maybe he was imagining it, but there was something that could’ve been confusion in Bucky’s eyes. 

”Bucky.” 

No response. 

”Bucky, you remember me, right? You’ve gotta remember me...” 

Bucky stared at him for a moment longer before he answered. When he did, his voice was flat and hard. 

”Don’t call me that.” 

Steve’s chest felt tight. 

”Bucky…” He raised his hands slowly in surrender. “It’s Steve, remember? You know me…” 

Steve took a step forward, into the circle, towards Bucky. 

”Remember Brooklyn, Bucky?” He hoped he sounded confident and resolute, even though he felt like pleading, crying, breaking down. 

”Brooklyn.” Bucky’s voice was softer, and his grip on the trigger relaxed, only slightly. 

A little half-smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s lips, and he took another step forward. “Yeah. That’s right… Brooklyn.” 

Bucky stared at him for a moment, and now Steve was sure he wasn’t imagining the confusion in his eyes. 

And the next few seconds would replay in Steve’s head, again and again, in slow motion. 

Bucky taking a step forward, his expression unreadable. 

A finger tightening on a trigger. 

And a bullet that went through Bucky’s stomach. 

His knees buckled, and the gun fell from his hand and hit the asphalt. Before he knew what he was doing, Steve had closed the distance between them, and he was wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist, taking his weight, trying to steady him. 

”Steve…” Bucky sounded more dazed and confused than anything else. 

”It’s me, Bucky, I’m here…” 

He could’ve sworn that a tiny smile appeared on Bucky’s face. “From Brooklyn.” 

”That’s right, Bucky, Steve from Brooklyn.” 

He sank to the ground with Bucky in his arms, and Bucky let his head fall against Steve’s shoulder. He was looking up at Steve with wide eyes, all the coldness and the hatred gone. 

”Steve…” 

”Do you…” Steve’s voice was shaking. “Do you remember…” 

”Coney Island,” Bucky whispered, and he was smiling. 

Steve felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. 

Coney Island— they’d been there a thousand times, but he knew what Bucky meant, that Fourth of July, the year before Bucky had left to fight and Steve had become Captain America and everything had changed. 

The Fourth of July when they’d gone to watch the fireworks together, and for some reason, Bucky had reached out to take Steve’s hand and when Steve looked up at him, Bucky’s eyes were shining brighter than the fireworks. 

Steve had kissed him that night, for the first time and the only time, on the roof of his apartment building. 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There was a bright red stain spreading across Bucky’s clothes, something warm and scarlet pooling on the pavement under him. 

Steve took a shaky breath and tried to keep his voice steady. “Hang on, okay? We’ll get someone to patch you up, and you’re— you’re gonna be okay…” 

”Not gonna make it,” Bucky whispered, and Steve could see the pain in his eyes. 

”You can’t say that, Bucky, come on!” 

”Steve…” 

”Bucky, I can’t let you—” 

”Just… stay with me, Steve, promise me you won’t just leave me here…” 

”I promise,” Steve whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere...” 

”That’s all I need to know…” Bucky’s eyes were bright, shining the way they had all those years ago, brighter than any fireworks, and Steve knew, beyond any doubt, that he was still Bucky after all, still the boy he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago. 

Steve smoothed a strand of hair off Bucky’s forehead, and he managed a weak laugh. “You grew your hair out. It looks good like that, you know…” 

Bucky smiled. “And you must’ve worked out a bit, huh?” 

Steve was smiling, even as tears blurred his vision. “Guess so.” 

”I…” Bucky was struggling to speak, and there were flecks of red at the corner of his mouth. “I missed you, Steve, the times I remembered…” 

Steve nodded. They were both silent for a moment, and he stroked Bucky’s hair, trying to reassure him. His hand stopped to rest against the side of Bucky’s face, and Bucky lifted his hand to rest on Steve’s, although his face went tight with pain from the effort. 

His hand was shaking. 

”And you know, Steve,” he said, and he was smiling, even though his voice was weak and pained. “I think…” 

” _Bucky…_ ” Steve held on to Bucky tightly, protectively, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. There was nothing to protect him from anymore, nothing he could stand up to. The worst had happened, and now Steve could only hold onto Bucky, stay with him, cling to him like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver. “Bucky, _please…_ ” 

”I only ever kissed you once,” Bucky murmured. “I remember that, and I wish…” 

He drew a laboured breath, with a horrible, pained sound, and Steve could feel tears spilling over, streaking his face. 

”I wish I would’ve kissed you more than once. I wish I could’ve told you…” There were tears shining in Bucky’s eyes now, too. 

He reached up to rest his hand on Steve’s cheek, leaving a red smudge behind. “You know, Stevie, I think I was a bit in love with you.” 

Bucky’s hand fell to his side. 

”Bucky! Bucky, I love you, I can’t let you— Bucky, _c'mon!_ ” The words came out as a desperate, hysterical rush. 

Steve felt like he was underwater, drowning, going under, and Bucky was still in his arms, still and unhearing. 

And Bucky was staring up at the sky, his eyes empty and vacant, the light and the warmth and the fireworks gone for the last time.


End file.
